Gregory
by FaultLine09
Summary: In which an accountant finds himself in unfamiliar territory.
Gregory woke up, but kept his eyes closed. It was Sunday. Aside from feeding himself, he had no real obligations today. When he would get out of bed in an hour or two, he would probably have some cereal and maybe a cup of tea. After that, he might catch up on the news, or maybe stretch out his legs and go for a walk. Sighing contently, Greg rolled onto his side and gripped lightly at his grassy mattress.

...

Grassy?

Opening his eyes, Greg found himself looking not at the off-white of his apartment wall, but at several tall trees sprouting from the earth, as well as a small pool of water. He stood up quickly, staggering slightly, and looked behind him. More trees. Gregory scratched the back of his head; where the hell was he? And another question of equal importance, how did he get here? Greg began to pace unconsciously, thinking about his predicament.

The fact that Gregory was in a forest bothered him greatly, for it meant that he was far away from the city he lived in. He looked to the overhead sun, squinting slightly. No airplanes either. He grunted, still pacing. There was no way for him to tell where he was, but perhaps he could figure out why.

Was he kidnapped? No, probably not. One would think that kidnapping someone would entail confining them to a locked room or leaving them tied up elsewhere. Gregory's limbs felt quite movable, and the area he was in seemed very open. Come to think of it, why would anyone try to capture him for anything? He was an accountant at a company that made baked goods; were they hoping to get cookies for holding him hostage? And again, he didn't feel trapped or restrained.

Confused and aggravated, Gregory punched the nearest tree. It promptly collapsed under itself, not falling to a side, but more like a massive stack of cans with the bottom kicked out. Greg had to take several backwards strides to avoid the falling timber, branches, and leaves.

When it all finally settled into a neat pile at his feet, Gregory shook his head, backing away from the pile. _This is all a dream,_ he told himself, _it_ has _to be_. He pinched himself on the shoulder. _So this isn't a dream,_ he thought, _but then what the hell is it? It's not reality, at least, not my reality_

The frustration of not understanding his situation boiled inside of boiled inside of Gregory again, but instead of punching another tree, he looked around, spotted the pool of water he'd seen earlier, and sprinted to it. He kneeled at the edge, looking at his reflection.

Looking back at him was, thankfully, exactly what he expected: a square face with grey eyes and a messy head of black hair. While thin for one of his considerable height, some lean muscle was visible on his frame. Greg wore exactly what he went to sleep in last night: a plain white t-shirt and a pair of briefs.

Looking at his reflection calmed Gregory a great deal; it was a constant, something that was the same as it was before. He just sat there for a while, still staring and occasionally taking a sip every now and again. His mind wandered, still dull from shock. Gregory was brought out of his stupor by a sudden pang of hunger. He grabbed at his stomach, grunting, and started thinking about where he might find some food. His eyes snapped towards the pile of tree, and he scrambled towards it.

While he didn't see any when he punched it down, Gregory hoped that the tree bore fruit. He stuck his hand into the mess, rifling around for anything that wasn't wood or leaves. He felt something smooth and pulled it out of the pile. There, in his hand, was a shiny red apple. He repeated the process and pulled out a total of five apples. He hungrily ate two; both of them were sweet, juicy, and surprisingly without blemishes, given the height they must've fallen.

When he was finished, Greg tossed the cores to the side and looked to the sky once more. The sun was now kissing the horizon, and the sky was tinted gold. After a few more minutes, the glowing ball was swallowed whole by the earth, and stars began to appear. The brightest ones first, then those less luminous. Soon, all of them were revealed to Gregory. The moon began rising up opposite where the sun had set, and clouds of stars were in clusters in the sky.

All of them were beautiful. But none of them, thought Gregory, were familiar. He saw no Big Dipper or Little Dipper, no Orion pulling his bowstring, and no summer triangle. Even the craters on the moon looked different. Questions of where, why, and how twirled in his head again. But with no way to answer them, they dissipated, unresolved. After a few moments, Greg laid his head down upon the grass and closed his eyes. The summer air warmed him like a blanket, and he fell asleep in minutes.

About an hour after Gregory had fallen asleep, a tall, shrouded figure appeared near him. It looked around before spotting the unconscious body that lay on the ground. The figure walked towards him, giving a wide berth to the pool of water that was between them. When it came to Greg, the shrouded being kneeled down to get a good look at the sleeping person, pulling its cowl down so it could see better, and revealing a bit of its face.

The eyes were a dark purple, small and analytical; they darted from one part of Greg's sleeping form to the next, as if they would only have one chance to do so. The skin visible on its face was dark from natural pigmentation. The nose, short and rounded. While physically young looking, the eyes had a sort of agedness to them, as if they had seen so much that nothing to surprise them.

Apparently satisfied with its examination, the figure pulled its cowl back up to obscure its face. A note that had been held under the figures robes was placed gingerly on the ground in front of Greg, before it returned to its feet and walked back to the spot where it had appeared, then turned on the spot, facing Greg.

Hour after hour it stood there, watching over Greg's sleeping form like a sort of guardian. It wasn't until the first rays of sunrise appeared over the horizon that the tall, cloaked figure moved again. It paced away from the rising sun, and disappeared into the slowly fading darkness.


End file.
